The 2,402,796,091 Vegeta-Bulma Fanfic
by Bribadi
Summary: Finally updated, yo! Chapter 6, yo! Uh, yeah, yo! Anyway, this is another V/B fanfic. Read! Review! Be not afraid of the mediocrity!
1. This is the first chapter!

Here is the first chapter! Please send reviews! Is there anything you like? Don't like? Tell me! Don't worry, it will get more exciting. This is just a base . . . 

YES!! I OWN DBZ!! EVERYTHING IS MINE!!!

No, no I don't. Please don't sue.

The time is one year after the visit of future Trunks.

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"Bye, Yamcha!" Bulma waved. "Call me!" After waving again at the receding headlights, she closed the door and slumped against it. "Whew! I'm beat! That much dancing can really wear a girl out." Bulma flapped her shirt. "Oh!" She smiled sheepishly to herself. "You can really work up a sweat, too—better go take a shower." As the woman headed toward her room, she noticed a sliver of light under the kitchen door. It was almost three in the morning—her parents would have already gone to bed. Though more curious than scared, she picked up a hall lamp and cautiously crept towards the door.

Horrible grunting and slurping noises came from the room, reminding Bulma of a ravenous bear. She relaxed and placed the lamp on the dining room table. "Pig! He's at it again! Let's see if I can catch him in the act!" With finesse one might not have thought she had, Bulma crept closer to the door and began to open it just a crack. "Yes!" she whispered to herself, and flung it open.

"Aha!" Bulma shouted. "Vegeta, WHAT have I told you about eating directly out of the refrigerator? Don't you have any manners? Look at yourself! You're _disgusting!_"

Vegeta started and instinctively sent an energy wave at the source of his surprise. Bulma screamed and he managed to divert it just in time—it only singed her hair.

"Woman! What have _I _told you about sneaking up on me like that! Next time, I'll make sure it hits you!" He meant to scare her, but the effect of his fury was somewhat dampened by the natto he had spilled all over his front.

"You wouldn't. Dad would shut down the gravity room, and then where would you be?" Bulma grumbled. She stood up and examined the annihilated door behind her. "That the third one you've destroyed this month;" she said disapprovingly. "Can't you relax for a second?"

Vegeta laughed. "A true warrior is always on his guard! Always ready to defend himself against his enemies if they should ever—"

"Oh, shut up." She rolled her eyes. _What a moron_. "I'm in a good mood and I don't need you it anymore than you already have." She spun around and began to walk out—then stopped to look back at Vegeta, focusing on the mess of food on his clothes. "Tch. Clean yourself up before you go to bed—wouldn't want the sheets to get dirty."

Veins bulged out of the Saiyan's forehead. Gritting his teeth, he fought back the urge to melt the fridge behind him. _Can't she see who she's talking to?_ He strode after her to find her starting up the stairs. "I am a Saiyan Prince!!! I will not be talked to like a child!"

"If you're such a great prince, then why are you living in my house? Where's your palace? And your servants? And the queen, huh? I bet you've never even been out on a date . . ." Bulma smirked.

"I have no need for such things! There is food, a bed, a servant girl, and a training room here—that is all I need! And as for queens and dates—using up my valuable time to go to some snotty restaurant to pay to wait half and hour to be served low-class food, while all that time expected to make _pleasant_" – he growled this word out in disgust—"conversation with some whiny, emotional woman! What is the point?" A triumphant smile spread across his face, but quickly faded at Bulma's incredulous look.

"Poor boy! You really have never been taken out!" A glint came to her eye. "Well, fear not!" she cried, striking a heroic pose, her fist upraised. "Bulma will save you from the life of a social outcast!" She moved toward him. Vegeta blinked at the finger pointed at his nose. "Tomorrow, I shall take you on—A DATE!"

"WHAT?" He pushed her hand away from him. "I refuse! I will not be ordered by some low-class weakling human female to follow her tail wherever she wishes me to go—"

Bulma winked. "Too late. Tomorrow is a Saturday night and Yamcha is busy! We'll go eat. Oh, I know just the place . . ." The woman clapped her hands in delight. The "servant girl" remark had really pissed her off, and she thought this would be the perfect way to humiliate Vegeta without him suspecting her true motives. _I'll crop him down a few notches! Take him to one of the fanciest restaurants in town and watch him make a fool of himself with his manners—I bet he can't even tell a dessert fork from a salad fork. Some prince he is! Hopefully, they'll ask him to leave… _ Noticing the ball of energy gathering at Vegeta's fist, she snapped her fingers in his face. "Oh, and don't think of locking yourself that training room—Dad's going to be upgrading it tomorrow night to give it the 500-g capability you were asking for. And if you think of staying home and just watching TV—well, we wouldn't want an _accident_ to happen to your lovely playpen, would we?" Giggling, she ran up the stairs.

"You DARE threaten me?" Vegeta screamed. He was answered by the sound of a slamming door.


	2. The Date! or Boy, They Really Hate Each ...

Ok, this one is SUPER, SUPER long. Sorry about that! But I couldn't find a good place to break until the end without making one of the parts unnecessarily short!

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Bulma checked her watch. It was already 5:20—barely enough time for her to get ready for their 7:00 reservation. She walked outside to the gravity room and hit the emergency shutdown button outside the door. Vegeta poked his head out to see where the disturbance had come from.

"Hey, rocks-for-brains," Bulma said, "start getting ready. We need to leave in a hour."

"I told you, I'm not going!"

"And I told _you_—accident!" She grabbed his arm and attempted to drag him out of the chamber. He wouldn't move. Bulma pulled harder, and still Vegeta didn't budge.

"Having a little trouble there, woman?" he grinned nastily.

Flushed with anger, Bulma let go and wiped her hands on her jeans. "Fine, stay there! But we're leaving at six-thirty whether you like it or not—and if the Prince wants to go to a five-star restaurant smelling like a latrine, that's his business. You pay for your food and I'll just sit at a different table."

Vegeta scowled at her departing figure. _Stupid female!_ He sat there for a while, glaring. Eventually, he followed her inside.

At 6:20, Bulma came downstairs dressed in the kind of eveningwear outfit only the daughter of a billionaire CEO of a major corporation could afford. She stopped at the hallway mirror to straighten her hair and admire herself. She wore a backless black dress that clung to her hips yet flared out at the knees [AN: I'm no good at clothes. Think Faye's evening dress in _Cowboy Bebop_] with black high heels (not too high—she didn't want to be taller than her date) and gloves that came up to her elbows. A simple string of pearls around her neck and a touch of makeup completed the ensemble. _Ugh. Too bad the only person seeing me will be Vegeta. But I couldn't wait to see the Dorogoy Restauran—Yamcha's always insisted on paying for our meals, and he says it's too expensive there _[AN: Yes, Russian food! Russian's the only foreign language I know well, and she's probably already tasted Chinese, French, and Italian. Besides, there have to be 5-star Russian restaurants out there…I think…] She frowned. _But am I dressed properly? Maybe this is too French…_ "Oh well." She sighed. "Too late for it now." She headed toward the living room to wait for Vegeta and found…Vegeta. Smelling better, but still dressed in a grimy t-shirt and an even grimier pair of boxers.

"You idiot! You can't go dressed like that!"

Vegeta turned to look at Bulma and was struck speechless for a second. But only a second. "What's wrong with this? I took a shower, didn't I? You should be happy for that small favor!" Bulma closed her eyes. _Calm, Bulma, calm. You should have known this would happen. Goku did the same thing whenever we went out to eat._

"Vegeta dear, please follow me. I had no idea you were this incompetent." Vegeta crossed his arms and sunk further into the couch. "_Accident!_" she hissed.

"No training room is worth this!"

"Oh, ok. I'll go tell my Dad that. I'm sure we could find a use for those parts."

"Fine! I'm coming." He slammed a fist on the table, cracking it in two. Bulma sniffed.

Twenty minutes later, after much shouting and more furniture-destruction, Vegeta emerged from Dr. Briefs' room dressed in a tuxedo.

_Amazing_. Bulma thought. _He actually looks…presentable**.**_ She voiced this opinion, leading to a smashed lamp. "Animal."

"Conniving witch."

"Move it. We're going to be late."

They arrived to the restaurant by car. During the entire ride, Vegeta harassed her on her inability to fly and she harassed him on his inability to drive.

"You're just too weak! You women are too wrapped up shopping and whining to learn anything useful!"

"I'll remember that next time you want your dinner cooked or your clothes cleaned or your damn gravity chamber fixed! Besides, NORMAL people weren't meant to fly! It's only you muscle-bound freaks that do it!" Bulma slammed the car door and threw the valet her keys; she only managed to calm herself down by imagining the humiliation that would ensue inside the restaurant.

Vegeta snickered. "Oh, and women are good at throwing tantrums, too."

"You should talk, Mr. Blow-Up-the-Hot-Dog-Cart-Because-He-Thought-They-Overcharged-Him." She grabbed his arm and hooked it in hers. "Now, behave. We're going into public; the least you could do is keep your giant mouth shut." Vegeta shook her arm away, but she grabbed it back. "I'm paying for the meal—we do this MY way!" As they entered the restaurant, Bulma immediately began to regret her decision to bring him here. It was one of the most elegant she'd ever been in—gold candlesticks, crystal chandeliers, soft Tchikovsky in the background—what would the patrons think if she brought this barbarian to this quiet haven of the bourgeois? Bulma imagined the tabloids—"Heiress to Capsule Corp's Monkey-Man Date Destroys Restaurant." 

But it was too late to turn back now. They were already noticed by the maitre d'. "Dobre vecher, sir;" he said, nodding to Vegeta. "Your name?"

Vegeta glared. Bulma nudged him aside. "It's under my name. Briefs. Bulma."

The man checked his list. "Da! Bulma Briefovich! This way, pozhalstah." He led them to a quiet table in the corner. "Ofeetseant bydyet suh vamee vskoroy." [AN: This is the last AN. I promise to not bastardize any more Russian phrases for you. Didn't work very well, did it? The guy just said, "The waiter will be with you shortly."]

The scowl on Vegeta's face deepened. "What the hell is he saying? What kind of place is this?"

"Russian." Bulma smiled sweetly. "I thought we'd try somewhere different."

"Damn woman! You couldn't take me somewhere normal, could you?" Bulma was surprised at his level tone. _Why isn't he screaming?_ She noticed the approaching waiter, and kicked his leg.

"Good evening, sir and madam!" He handed them the menus. "Would you like to start out with a drink? One of our wines? Or perhaps a little vodka? We have the finest."

Vegeta opened his mouth but was beaten by Bulma. "No thank you. Water for both of us, please. And I believe we'd like to start out with an appetizer"—she checked the menu—"the eekra eez baklazhanov. Thank you."

"Four of that, please." Vegeta added. The waiter raised his eyebrows, but nodded and left. As soon as he was gone, Vegeta's tone turned angry again. "What was that you ordered, anyway? And who are you to decide what I drink?"

Bulma didn't answer. She was too busy gaping. _Did he just say "please"?_ Vegeta repeated himself, even more annoyed. She shook her head and got on the defensive. "Mashed eggplants, onions, and tomatoes. And I know better than to let you have alcohol!" Vegeta responded by spitting into his empty wineglass. Bulma wrinkled her nose. "You're disgusting, you know that?"

"Oh, no! Am I, really? I must have forgotten from the two million other times you've told me!" He shut up as the waiter arrived with the four plates of appetizers. Vegeta thanked him and the waiter asked for their order.

_Good lord, he's gone crazy. He thanked the waiter!_ "Hmm, just the sturgeon in tomato sauce for me." She slid a glance over at Vegeta and smirked. He had no idea what anything in the menu was—he couldn't read Russian.

"Two of everything, thank you." Vegeta handed the menu to the waiter.

"Sir?" The man looked confused. Bulma rolled her eyes.

"Did you hear me or not? I said two of everything!" A hint of annoyance began to creep into Vegeta's polite voice. He noticed Bulma was about to say something and shoved the waiter her menu. "Quickly, please! We're very hungry!" Looking a bit dazed, the waiter headed towards the kitchens.

_Stupid woman. Thought she would trick me!_ Vegeta began to eat. 

Bulma was infuriated. "What are you thinking? Do you have any idea how much this is going to cost? First all your appetizers, and now this?"

"Oh, I'm sure you can afford it. Besides, you made the food sound so good, I just HAD to try it all." Bulma had nothing to say to this and remained silent, watching Vegeta eat.

_Amazing. He IS using the right fork. And he doesn't eat directly off the plate. He's polite to the waiter, he knows how to fold his napkin and which side to set his glass on…_ She tipped her head and surveyed the prince more carefully. _He actually knows what he's doing!_

Vegeta did not miss her look. "What? You think a prince would know nothing of etiquette? Even Saiyan royalty isn't above knowing where the dessert fork is." He snickered.

"You're always so ill-mannered at home, I wouldn't have a clue!"

He laughed. "Why should I be polite there? The only one who's watching me is a bad-tempered servant girl and her parents!" Vegeta leaned farther over the table. "You're no match for me, you know that? All you are is a powerless, classless human female, with only your friends to protect you…Just give up trying to beat me, woman! I know you try, but in the end, you'll fail! Accept your place!"

_Oh, that's it. He's going to pay! You want a match, Vegeta? Let's see you resist this trap!_ "You are such a jerk, you know that? Don't think for a moment that I wouldn't kick you out!"

"You wouldn't. You wouldn't dare. I'm the only one who has a hope of beating the androids!"

_Gotcha!_ "Yeah, right! What about Goku?" Vegeta stiffened. _The magic word! _Bulma thought triumphantly. "Oh, that's right, he's only third-class…but wait, hasn't he reached the level of a SUPER SAIYAN?" She watched him and kept prodding, only wanting to make him crack, no longer caring what the tabloids thought. "Yeah, it seems to me right now he's the strongest person in the world…"

Vegeta set his fork down. "I am stronger. Kakarott is a clown with luck, that is all." He lowered his voice to an icy hiss. "Now you WILL drop the subject—training room or not, I am not above killing you!" He continued eating. _Insolent hellcat! I'll kill her after the androids!_ "Three years, Bulma, in three years I will destroy those androids! Then I will have no need for your training room or your impertinence!"

_He doesn't scare me, he doesn't scare me, he doesn't scare me…_ Bulma beamed across the table. "Excuse me, I need to freshen up." She moved towards the restroom. _I hate him! I hate him! I hate him! He tried to destroy the planet, he tried to kill my friends, and I ask him into my house so he can kill ME? What was I thinking? Tomorrow, I'll call Goku—I'll tell him to get Vegeta OUT, no matter what—my life is at stake! My family's life is at stake! Just because I don't bow to his every whim like the servant girl he wants me to be—I hate him! I can't even embarrass him properly!_ Bulma sighed. _But he looked so normal and small, back then…I thought I could push—_ She stopped dead. Only two tables from hers sat Yamcha. He was not alone. All thoughts of Vegeta left Bulma's head.

"Vegeta! Give me that!" Bulma was back in her seat. She grabbed his fork, loaded it with the vegetable mess, and twisting it carefully around, she placed her finger on the prongs and got ready to fire.

"If you even try—" He stopped in midsentence to watch the eggplant sail lazily across the room and land with a wet splotch onto the back of a man's head. It slid slowly down his neck and into the collar of his white shirt. "Nice shot!" Vegeta said admiringly, and was especially gratified when he realized who the target was.

As Yamcha felt the warm goo hit him he shuddered in disgust, only to make it slide farther down his back. "What the?" He touched his hand to his neck and looked at the mess that came away in his fingers. "What the FUCK!"

"Yamcha?" The pretty brunette across from him blinked. "What's wrong?"

"Some bastard just decided to throw this crap at me!" He jumped up, looking for the culprit, and immediately noticed Bulma waving innocently at him. Throwing his shoulders back, the man was about to march over there when he realized who her dinner partner was.

"Vegeta!" he whispered, and sunk back into his seat, smiling weakly at the two.

"Who was it, honey? Who did that awful thing?"

"Uh, I dunno, babe. I'll just go clean this up—"

"Do you want some help?" Yamcha blushed.

"No, no, I can do it."

Back at her table, it was all Bulma could do to keep from bursting out with laughter. "Oh, his face! Oh, when he saw you, Vegeta! Priceless!"

Vegeta sneered, but looked a little puzzled. "Why did you do that, woman?"

Bulma's face fell. "Look who he's with! Another woman! The bastard's CHEATING on me!"

"Well, she is prettier than you. And younger. And she looks a lot less overbearing."

Tears were coming to Bulma's eyes. "You're not helping! I don't know about you, but I'm leaving!" She barely avoided smashing into their waiter as he staggered to their table under the weight of 30 or more dishes. "Excuse me!"

Vegeta followed her. "Woman! How am I supposed to eat my food if I can't pay for it?"

Bulma whipped around. "Oh, that's right! Well, I guess you'll just have to wash dishes—or you could just leech more off of my family and make a sandwich at MY home!" She stalked out.

"Briefs car, please!" she snapped at the valet. He jumped and ran towards the parking lot. A strong hand grabbed her shoulder and she found herself shoved around to face a livid Vegeta.

"I want my food, woman!" 

"You're not getting it! Deal with it!" She spit on his shoes. "Let go of me!"

He wiped his foot on the bottom of Bulma's dress. "What was the point of doing this if I can't even eat? I wore your clothes, acted polite, tried to enjoy myself! Why are you angry, anyway? You brought ME here, didn't you? Aren't you doing the same to him?"

Bulma laughed derisively. "Right! You? Breaking my bank account? Threatening to kill me? WIPING SPIT ON MY DRESS? You don't count! You never counted!" She took a deep breath. "Do you know why I took you out, Vegeta? I wanted to embarrass you!" The grip on her shoulders tightened, she could feel real pain now, but still went on. "And... and... you're always by yourself and locked away and never talking to anyone or doing anything, and I…I felt SORRY for you!" These last words came out in a rush.

But Vegeta did nothing. Bulma felt no heat of a ki blast, no cracking of her bones. He released his grip and pushed her roughly away from him, boring into Bulma with flat, cold black eyes. The ball of energy came, but it was sent into the building across from the restaurant, blasting it to smithereens. Bulma flinched. Vegeta's voice went into a falsetto mockery of hers.

"You are such a bitch, you know that?" Sending another blast at her waiting car, he flew away. Bulma sunk to her knees next to the unconscious form of the valet, shaking in terror.


	3. In which Vegeta Busts a Cap and Bulma Bl...

Well, a month later, I've finally broken out of my writer's block and found enough time outside my schoolwork to write this stupid chapter!!! I'm really, REALLY sorry! Thanks to all of those patient people who sat by their computers, waiting for me to download the next installment of this exciting, brilliant saga! I know, I know—I'm a genius.

No, I don't own the stupid show. Leave me alone.

Let it begin!

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_Pity me! _ Vegeta drew himself to his full power, and blasted the ground he was flying over, leaving a giant gash in the earth. He neither cared about where he was or where he was going. All he wanted to do was blow up as many things as possible in the shortest amount of time. _SHE, pity ME?_ "Impossible!" he shouted, and let out another energy blast, this one decimating a large section of forest.

_I am a Saiyin! I have reached levels of power she cannot dream of, I have seen and done things she can only wish for—and she PITIES me?_ "Friends?" His voice echoed in the night. "Going OUT? Why would I need this? I don't WANT to shop, or dance, or do any of the insipid, worthless actions she considers to be fun! She pities me because I would rather challenge myself than grow fat and half-witted?" Vegeta thought about this and grew even more infuriated.

He stopped, hovering in the air. "I AM A PRINCE!!!!" Flocks of birds flew up from the trees underneath him, shrieking at his roar. In a fit of frenzy the Saiyin began to throw balls of energy at them, eliminating whole groups until only a few charred bodies remained of the hundreds once there. After letting out another long scream, he spun and released a continuous blast of energy that destroyed everything within a mile radius. 

__

I should go back and kill her right now… 

But as he turned to go, he noticed a huge mountain in the distance, rising above all the others in the nearby range. The prince smiled.

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Bulma arrived home around eleven, having been able to compose herself enough to call an ambulance for the valet and hail a taxi. The putrid smell of the seats and the leering eyes of the driver were enough to banish any fears she had of Vegeta and replace them with fury. 

"I'll never be able to show my face in that restaurant again!" she moaned.

"Hey, baby—I know lots of restaurants way classier than that one." The driver gave her a gap-toothed grin. Bulma shuddered.

"I don't think so." She threw a fistful of bills at his face and stomped inside.

"Hi, honey! How was your date?" Bulma started to find her mother standing in the hallway.

"Mom? What are you doing up? Did you and Dad rent a movie or something?"

"Oh, no—your poor father came down with a fever right after you left. I came downstairs to fix him some tea." She smiled. "But don't worry about that. I don't want to ruin your lovely night."

"Ugh. Nothing you could do could possibly make it any worse. I left, uh, early." Bulma heard a horrible hacking sound from upstairs. "Oh, Dad! Mom, are you sure its just a fever?"

"Oh, dear. Then you and Vegeta got in another fight? And your father wasn't able to fix his gravity chamber either because of his illness. He'll be so disappointed!"

Bulma rolled her eyes. "Really, Mom, I'm sure he'll be fine. Could we stop talking about him now? Dad's the sick one—he sounds like he's coughing his lungs out up there!" She headed for the stairs. "I'll go check on him."

"Just let him have his rest—he's overworked himself, that's all." Mrs. Briefs sighed. "Bulma, Vegeta is such a nice man, why do you have to fight with him?"

"Me fight with HIM? A nice man? Mother, he's a mass murderer!"

The woman gave her daughter a vacant smile. "I know people can change. Why, I saw this program just the other day on this man who robbed banks and stores and killed and did what-all, but when he got out of prison he became a minister! A minister!"

Bulma smacked her head. _I won't bother telling her that was a TV movie. _"HE won't. He doesn't WANT to change. He LIKES being an arrogant asshole!'

"Bulma!" Her voice turned sharp. "That language is unacceptable!"

"Gee, sorry. I'm going to bed." She began to leave, but Mrs. Briefs caught her arm.

"Dear, do me one favor, please." Bulma turned. "Don't fight with Vegeta. At least, not until your father gets well again. It does make such a disturbance, and I want him to get all the rest he can. Couldn't you make up for a little while?"

Bulma's shoulders slumped. _A disturbance? I guess I never realized the effect all that shouting had on Dad and Mom—no wonder Dad's been having trouble getting his work done_. "I'm really sorry, Mom. I'll try."

Later, as she lay on her bed, she thought about her mother's words. _Olive branch, huh? _She looked outside her window to the gravity chamber illuminated in the moonlight. _Even if he doesn't deserve it?_

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Vegeta arrived back at the Brief house the next morning, hungry and drained from a night of destruction. "Woman! Where's my breakfast?" The only answer was the sound of frying bacon and the clunking of pans. He tramped into the kitchen.

"Good morning!" A cheery Mrs. Briefs greeted the ravenous warrior with a huge plate of pancakes, bacon, and toast. "Eat up! Bulma and Mr. Briefs are still asleep, and there's plenty more where that came from!"

Vegeta merely grunted and sat down in the middle of the floor to stuff his face. An hour later, he found a full belly had somewhat managed to calm his murderous thoughts. _I will kill the family another day. For now, they are useful._ In his room, he removed what little remained of the tuxedo and changed into his workout clothes while daydreaming about different painful ways to kill Bulma. A knock at the door startled him from his reverie.

"Oh, Vegeta? Would you please try to walk and speak quietly around the house? Mr. Briefs is sick, and it would be wonderful if we didn't disturb him." Mrs. Briefs asked sweetly. "And I'm terribly sorry, but he couldn't upgrade your chamber—in fact, he was halfway through the job when he fell ill, so it's all dismantled!" 

"And how am I supposed to train?" 

"You could go for a swim, or a run, or to the gym . . ." Deep growls emanating from the room stopped her train of thought. "Or," Mrs. Briefs added hurriedly, "you could ask Bulma! I'm sure she'd be happy to repair the chamber for you!" She toddled away to leave Vegeta with a throbbing vein in his forehead.

"Ask that—thing?" he hissed. "Beggar myself in front of her?" He could see her reaction now.

"Oh, so the Prince needs his chamber fixed? What, the high-and-mighty Saiyin needs MY help? Gee, Vegeta—I don't know if I can live up to your expectations! Maybe you better just do the job yourself—I'm sure YOU would do it PERFECT."

"That's right. I'll fix the chamber so you can keep training to kill me and my family! What a great idea!"

Or even worse:

"Of COURSE I'll repair the chamber! After you promise to cook for the next month, do all my laundry, sweep the floors, dust my room . . ." The Saiyin shuddered at the image of his superior talents wasted on scrubbing floors.

"If I hadn't sunk to their pitiful little level and set up this situation where I depend on that damn chamber so much…" He flew out the window and was about to give the gravity chamber a good kick when he noticed the door was open. _Great! Now some animal probably has decided to make its home in there!_ Vegeta gathered some energy at his finger, ready to vent on any unsuspecting living thing inside.

But he saw no signs of an animal. Nor did he find a mess of electronics and metal bits and pieces spread across the floor. In fact, the chamber looked normal. Vegeta was confused. What had been taken apart? Then he noticed Bulma.

She sat in a chair next to the center column, fast asleep. Her upper body lay across the console, head tucked in her arms and blue hair spread across the screens. She wore only her pajamas and a lab coat—the latter had fallen from one side, exposing part of a shapely thigh and sliver of her upper back. A ray of sunlight came in through a nearby window to light up the woman's face and hair, giving the impression of a halo surrounding her head. On Bulma's face was a look of complete, sweet, beautiful serenity.

__

The idiot forgot where her bed was! She probably got drunk after I ditched her! Vegeta gave the chair a powerful kick, sending it across the room and Bulma to the floor. Hard. 

"What?" Bulma rubbed her eyes and winced as a jolt of pain shot up her back. "Who—Vegeta!" She was up and in his face before he had time to react. "What did you do that for?"

"Moron! You're bed's in there!" he laughed nastily, pointing toward the house. "Get out of my training room!"

"YOUR training room—" She took a deep breath. _No fighting, no fighting, olive branch…_ Gritting her teeth, she slammed on the ON button for the room, and pointed toward the controls. "700-g capability, new training programs, the reaction time of the robots is faster than ever and I've given them adjustable levels. You're welcome!" Bulma slammed the door, leaving a stunned Vegeta behind her.

After a few minutes, he began to run his first program. He marveled at the ease to which she had set the controls, the speed of the drones, and the fluidity of the new programs. _Someone's finally learned her place! I guess last night knocked in some sense!_ At lunchtime, he emerged a happy monkey-man. Those few hours had been one of the best workouts in his life. _Some food, and then I can return!_ Vegeta laughed to himself, thinking of Kakarott's reaction to his increased power at the end of the three years.

He found an empty kitchen. There were no plates of sandwiches or pasta waiting, no protein shakes or even a granola bar. Nothing in the fridge, in the cupboards, in the pantry. Not an edible crumb to be found. Everything was gone! Good mood quickly vanishing, he stalked through the house, looking for a certain someone to scream at.

"Hello, Vegeta." She was behind him. Vegeta was about to open his mouth, but Bulma beat him to it.

"I guess you're wondering where your food it, huh?" The warrior noticed the deadly look in her eyes. "That's pretty amazing. No food. I wonder where it could have gone?"

"Yes, I wonder." He replied sarcastically.

"It seems to me that a lot of people are looking for things today." Bulma held up a radio and flipped it on.

" . . . And we're continuing with our live coverage of the disaster at the historical Fujiyuki Mountain . . ." She flipped it off.

"You see, a certain mountain seems to be missing. Completely blasted away. Only a crater left. Wasn't a nuclear missile. Couldn't have been an air attack by another country—we would have noticed. So, how can an entire mountain be blasted away in a single night?" Bulma stepped closer to him. "You know, Vegeta—your whereabouts last night are unaccounted for. But I know you were pretty pissed. And I also know that, when angry, you have a tendency to blow things up." Her eyes narrowed. "I think it's pretty obvious what happened."

Vegeta smirked. "Why should I care what happens to a stupid mountain? You don't seem to mind when your little friends are destroying landmarks when they fight.'

"There's a difference. That mountain was a historical treasure. An archeological landmine! Not only was it the site of most of the old emperors' castles, but there were shrines and temples there thousands of years old! Thousands! Some of them were even still active! People lived there, Vegeta! Goku never fought around heavily inhabited areas! And he's never destroyed anything for the heck of it! And the destruction Goku's done anywhere always involved the fate of the world hanging on whether or not he fought!" Bulma's nostrils flared. "What the HELL were you thinking?"

"I still fail to see your point."

The woman rubbed her temples. "You are such an IDIOT. Can't you comprehend what you did? That mountain was a national landmark! It was a treasure! The tourist dollars brought there! The money poured into it from academic grants! You've just made an entire branch of this country's economy collapse! I ask again, what were you thinking?"

"I do what I want." He shrugged his shoulders. "Deal with it. Now, I want food. You will get me food, or else!'

"Vegeta—"

"Shut up and get me food, woman!"

It was the last straw. Bulma exploded. "That's it! I'm sick of you! I'm sick of being called 'woman'! I'm sick of having to listen to you whine on and on and on about your damn power and your damn royal blood and your damn training and your damn death threats! My dad is sick and I fix your training room to make peace with you and you blow up a mountain and want food? I refuse! I will not DEAL with you ANY LONGER! Cook your own meals! Get your own house! Train any way you want THERE, I don't care WHAT you do I want you OUT!" Tears were coming to her eyes.

"Are you happy? Now you've made me yell and my dad's probably awake!" By now Bulma had completely broke down. It was hard to make out her words between her gasping sobs. She began to pound on his chest. Unmoved, Vegeta grabbed her wrists and threw her down the hallway. The sobs stopped. Bulma slowly got up, swayed, and grabbed a candlestick.

"I hate you! I hate you!" Vegeta threw her down again. She got up. Again he pushed her down. Again she got up. This time, she managed to take a swing at him; he easily blocked it. He marveled at her tenacity—he was not using his full power (after all, she did fix his chamber), but he could tell from the bruises that were already forming that she was getting hurt.

"Abusive, rotten, pig!" Bulma shrieked. Vegeta rolled his eyes, then spun her around, twisting her arms behind her back with one hand and covering up her mouth with the other.

"I'm sick of this. Be quiet!"

Bulma glared, and bit his hand. Disgusted, he let go and stepped back. Suddenly, he felt a flash of insight. At this moment—at this moment when her jaw was set like that, when she took that aggressive stance, when her eyes were flecks of steel and, when, despite her pain, she refused to submit to him—at this moment she was pretty damn sexy. It made him double over with laughter.

"All right, all right! I'm leaving!" He grabbed her nearby purse and emptied it of cash. "I'll go out for lunch!" As he headed for the front door, he heard another outraged scream. This time, he let the candlestick hit him squarely on the back of the head. Vegeta winced, but kept laughing as he flew out of the house.

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Ooh! Wasn't that fun! I didn't know that was going to happen! Keep tuning it—I promise to have another chapter out by next week.

Two things:

Yes, Fujiyuki is a really bad name. It displays my gross ignorance of all things Japanese. Come up with a better name, and I'll change it.

No, this will not be a fanfic in which Vegeta and Bulma beat each other up until, in a fit of passion, they have sex. I hope.

And yes, I'm getting to the Yamcha part, don't you worry! Bulma had other things on her mind this chapter, like working on the gravity chamber and her sick dad and certain assholes (in her view) who blow up mountains!


	4. The Aftermath and Breakup (also known as...

ARGGGGH!! I'm so sorry! Methinks I'm just not good at this "updating" stuff! Thank you all who actually bothered to keep checking, even though I promised a week and it's been a month…I'm really sorry—it's like this with my email, too…

Chapter 4. Ooh, chapter goes loooong. Please keep those loverley reviews coming! Again, thanks for staying with me!

Sue me, and I'll release the hounds.

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Bulma collapsed to her knees. The candlestick rolled out of her hand. What had she been thinking?

"He could have killed me! And he didn't even care that when I said there was a sick man in the house!" She winced as she touched the bruises on her wrists. "He was just playing the whole time." Managing to struggle up, she held on to the stairs and glanced up to her parents' room. "I'm glad Mom took Dad to the doctor—he wouldn't have been able to handle this."

Limping into the kitchen, Bulma thought about the events. _Stupid bastard. I'm black and blue. I won't be able to go out for weeks_. She grabbed an ice pack from the fridge and held it to her cheek. "If he's lucky, I haven't broken anything!"

Bulma cursed her stupidity. If she hadn't been so stressed and tired, this wouldn't have happened. She favored more cerebral methods—physically taking him on had only served to embarrass herself. What could she possibly do to regain her dignity?

"That's it!" She raced down to the basement and rummaged through a closet full of her old inventions. _I hope I didn't throw it away—it WAS a really good idea._ Triumphantly, she held up a little sphere the size of a marble. "My special vitamin from my teenage years! It worked on Oolong—no reason it should bring that Saiyan down to his knees!" The woman began to laugh. "I'm a genius! I can't think of anything more humiliating than to control him through his bowels!"

A doorbell rang. Yamcha's voice drifted down the hallway. "Bulma! Hey Bulma! Please! It's a misunderstanding!"

Outside, Yamcha was scratching the back of his leg with his other foot. "Great. She's mad at me again." He looked up at the sky. "Why does it always happen to me?"

"Because YOU"RE the only one SCUMMY enough to deserve it!" He jumped as Bulma slammed the door open. "How dare you even show yourself, after what you did last night!!!!"

Deep shades of red spread from the man's neck to his cheeks. "Bulma!" He shot down to his knees, handing her a bundle of roses. "Bulma, you have to listen to me! It wasn't what you tho-aaaugh—WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO YOU???" Yamcha grabbed Bulma by the shoulders, but immediately let go at her cry of pain. "Bulma! You're face! Who—?"

"It's swollen up that bad already?" Yamcha looked at her in horror. One side of her face was completely swollen, the other sported a shallow gash. Her wrists were bruised, her normally pristine clothing crumpled and dusty. He could tell from the way she held herself that those weren't the only injuries.

"It was Vegeta, wasn't it! Bulma, what did he do? I'll kill him! For the love of—son of a bitch! You should have called me! When did he do it? Where is he?" Yamcha stepped into the house. "Oh, Bulma!"

"Hold it right there!" Bulma held up her hand. "I'm still mad at you!" His concern made her voice soften. "But I guess not as much as I should be. I'll explain." After making some tea, she led him out to the balcony and relayed the events of the past day. "And then he left with my money!"

"He's psycho. Why'd you confront him in the first place?"

"What, I'm supposed to let him walk all over me?" Bulma snorted.

"Well, why didn't you call me? I could have straightened things out! I still can!" Yamcha jumped up. "As soon as he gets back, I'll rip him apart!" 

He looked over at Bulma. She shook her head. "Uh…you could call Goku too, and he can help me rip him apart!"

"Look, Yamcha, I guess part of this is my fault for inviting him to stay here in the first place. And Goku's got his own life. I can't call him to come rescue me whenever Vegeta gets angry!"

"But Bulma! He HURT you!"

Bulma smirked and sipped her tea. "And he's never going to do it again! First of all, my dad and I won't repair his chamber ever again if he doesn't get down on his knees and beg for forgiveness! And second, I have a weapon." She held up her finding.

Yamcha looked at it, puzzled. As recognition set it, a grin began to spread across his face. "Is that…?" She nodded. He made an exaggerated bow. "Three cheers to Bulma, greatest genius of the Earth!"

"Thank you, thank you!" Bulma struck a dramatic pose. "It's so hard being this smart AND beautiful!"

"BUT!" Her voice turned sharp, and Yamcha froze. "This isn't why you came here!" 

He trembled and sat down. _Let my ass-whupping begin._

————————————————————————-

Full and comfortable, still chuckling over his revelation, Vegeta landed outside the Brief house. His good mood vanished at the sight of Yamcha's car in the driveway. _Great, now she's going to bring over the entire moron brigade._ He was about to enter the house when he heard voices from the backyard. _Probably talking about me! Wonder if they're going to call the brave Kakkarott?_ Curious, but unwilling to make his presence known, he slipped underneath the balcony and listened.

"Who was that girl you were with last night?" Bulma's was harsh and accusing. _She still has fight left? I'd think she'd be in her room, crying over a broken nail! Perhaps I'll get to hear that fool chewed out!_ Vegeta settled himself against the wall, ready to hear the show.

—————————————————————————-

"I was afraid this was going to happen. You have to believe me, Bulma—she's nothing. She's a fan!" Yamcha began to dig in his pockets and pulled out a piece of newspaper.

"I can tell, the way she was hanging all over you! And taking her to that restaurant—it looks like the feeling was mutual!"

"She won a contest!" Yamcha pleaded. "Really! It was for my baseball team! Here, look!" He pushed the piece of newspaper toward her. Bulma held it between her thumb and forefinger like it was a dirty sock. "Well, read it! It's proof."

Bulma glanced at his earnest face. Sighing, she looked quickly over the article. At the top was a picture of the girl from the restaurant latched on to a very disgruntled Yamcha, dressed in his baseball uniform. The headline read, _Winner of 'Meet Your Hero' Lottery Announced!_

"I didn't want to, but my manager made me sign up as a 'prize' for this contest. See, you'd buy a ticket and if you won, you'd get to have dinner with a participating sports hero where ever you wanted." He grinned sheepishly. "I didn't want to tell you because I thought you'd be mad. I didn't think you'd at that place, too."

"And that's all?"

"That's it, I promise! On my honor! I'd never cheat on you, Bulma!"

Bulma looked at the picture again, sat back, and sighed. "I should have trusted you." She looked over the edge of the balcony. The sun was beginning to set. A strange feeling came over her. "Yamcha, how long have we been dating?"

His stomach dropped. "Geez, over a decade."

"Ever since we first found all the Dragonballs and that thing with Emperor Pilaf ended. It was great then, wasn't it? You were my first boyfriend, I was the first girl you could really talk to—seemed like we were destined for each other."

He reached over and grabbed her hand.

"Yamcha—after you came back from Nameck, after you were resurrected, I realized something. Most of our time together is spent fighting."

"We have a healthy relationship!"

"I thought, maybe we WEREN'T destined for each other."

"There are just a couple of things we need to work out. Bulma, we've been together for so long!"

"That's the problem! It's like, we HAVE to be together. That's the way it's always been! You and me! But Yamcha, I don't really think we're compatible."

Yamcha looked at her, stunned. Below, Vegeta's was equally shocked. Things were beginning to get interesting.

"Yamcha, admit it. I'm a bossy, controlling, jealous woman. And YOU—don't get me wrong, you're a sweet guy—YOU'VE got a roving eye and can't seem to commit yourself to anything besides training. And even that's not all that serious to you anymore. I know you've never cheated on me, but I keep thinking it's only a matter of time. Neither one of us is ready to get married, but we can't stay in this situation. It's unfair to you and stressful for me."

"Are—are you dumping me?"

"Only if you won't agree for this to be a mutual decision. Yamcha, we've known each other for so long, it be a shame if this breakup went badly. I still want to hang out, just not with the added romantic tension."

"But I don't want us to be 'just friends'!" He was on his knees, holding her hands. Bulma giggled.

"Honestly, Yamcha—do you love me?"

Yamcha smiled. Even an idiot would know the right answer to this one. "I—" His eyes flicked to the ground. Honestly. Sighing, he stood up and went back to his chair. "All right. Then this is the end, I guess."

He gritted his teeth and looked down at his hands. "Bulma—now you have to answer me a question. I saw YOU with someone last night, and you don't have an excuse. You—you don't want this because of Vegeta, right?"

Vegeta's eyebrows raised. The thought hadn't occurred to him. He craned his neck to better hear her answer.

Bulma looked at Yamcha. An uncomfortable silence hung in the air. Then the corner of her mouth began to twitch and she was on the floor, rolling with laughter. "Me—me? Him? Me! Ouch!" She held her back. "Owwww!" Yamcha helped her up. "Yamcha! Look what he did to me! You're not that big of a moron, are you?"

"I don't know!" he said defensively. "You invited him to stay with you! And you want to break up the day after you go out to dinner with him! You tell me!"

"Good God! I told you why I took him out! I felt sorry for him! And I wanted to embarrass him!" Bulma brushed herself off. "And, yes, I did think he was cute in a gruff, the-man-who-stands-alone kind of way when I first invited him here—"

Vegeta smirked.

"—but he's made my life a living hell!" She clasped her hands together. "Oh, if only my innocent heart didn't put so much trust in handsome men!"

The Saiyan rolled his eyes. Yamcha snickered.

"What?"

"Nothing." He placed his hands gently on her shoulders. "I'm just glad it wasn't him. It—it would just really kill me, you know? I'm not perfect—but leaving me for a guy who considers murder to be an acceptable hobby? It'd just be a giant blow to my ego."

"Huh. We wouldn't want THAT, would we? Well, don't worry. I don't go for honorless scum who attack people just because they stand up to them. Hey, could you get that tray?" 

"Didn't you hit him first?" The sliding door closed, muffling any further conversation. It didn't matter. Vegeta had stopped caring.

"Honorless scum? SHE attacked ME!" He cursed Bulma and Yamcha. "What would they know of honor? I didn't use my full power, did I? She should be glad she still has her life!" He remembered the fixed gravity chamber and cursed again. A swarm of emotions seemed to be fighting for a place in his mind. Still cursing, he flew off.

————————————————————————————

"Mom, it's ok, really, I've got it under control!" Yamcha had left hours ago, and Mr. and Mrs. Briefs had just come home.

"Your face! Your beautiful face! Oh, that rascal! Was he drunk, dear? We'll turn him out, immediately!" Bulma had made sure her dad was in bed before she had come out to meet them. So far, only her mother had seen her.

"Mom, quietly!" she whispered. "I don't think that's a good idea! Let me take care of him, ok? How's Dad?"

"Are you sure? Your father could do something."

"He's sick, Mom! Now, if you could just tell me with what, that would be great!"

"A nasty virus, that's all. The doctor gave us some medicine. He should take it for a week, and then he'll be fine." Mrs. Briefs gripped her daughter's hands. "Dear, did he find out about Yamcha? Is that it? You shouldn't have tried to date two men at once! You'll have to dump Vegeta! I don't want you marrying a wife-beater! It isn't healthy!"

Bulma rubbed her temples. "Yeah, Mom. I'll dump him right away. I've got a lot of work to do, so I'm going down to the lab, okay? Get some rest."

"We could go to the hospital right now, get you all fixed up!"

"That's all right! Just go to bed!"

"But honey, you'll look like that for AGES! And you don't want that nasty cut to scar, do you?"

"Gee, thanks Mom. I'm going to the lab now. Good night!" She walked down the stairs. Her mother's voice drifted off behind her.

"I have some Neosporin!!!!"

Down at the lab, Bulma set to work. With her father sick, things were really piling up. She hadn't been helping him too much—he overworked himself, she decided. Well, she would start pulling her weight by catching up with all his projects. After grabbing some aspirin, she picked up her welding mask and started to attach an arm to a prototype robot-maid Mr. Briefs was building.

—————————————————-

Hours later, she heard the door slam. Vegeta had returned. He thumped around upstairs, rummaging through the fridge. _He really doesn't care that anyone might be sleeping, does he?_ Bulma was about to run upstairs and chew him out when she remembered the vitamin. _I'll slip it into something…_

"You could TRY to be quiet."

Vegeta turned around to see the woman. Still battered and bruised, still shooting her mouth off. "You don't quit, do you? Can't you shut up for just one night? I'm not in the mood!: He took some leftover chicken-and-rice from the fridge and started shoveling it in his mouth.

The woman slipped around him. "I can't believe you have the nerve to march in here and start eating after what you did to me. She looked into the fridge. "Look at this! It's a mess! You think my mom LIKES cleaning up after you? If it wasn't for her and me, this place would be a pigsty!" Though pretending to clean up, Bulma was really looking for something to put her vitamin in.

The Saiyan looked at the back of the nagging monster before him. "I still need to train here a little more," he whispered to himself. Slowly he reached into his bodysuit and took something out.

Bulma continued to chatter. "Ugh, you even managed to spill orange juice—just put the cap on for pete's sake! It's already drying!"

"Woman, would you just SHUT UP?" Vegeta slammed his hand down on the counter, rattling the counters and leaving a dent. Bulma flinched and was quiet. He shoved the rest of the chicken into his mouth and stamped off to his room.

__

Arrogant jerk, you'll get what's coming to you… She checked the dented countertop. "More bills…I swear, I'm on a first name basis with the carpenters by now…what's this?" A small object was in the middle of the cracked boards. Bulma picked it up. It was a Senzu bean. She blinked and looked up to where Vegeta's room was. Then she slipped the vitamin back into her pocket and went back downstairs.

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Ok, I will put another chapter up within the next two weeks, I promise! I really will! I mean it, I really will! If I don't, you may spam me like no one has spammed before. Spam! Spam!

For those who haven't watch Dragonball, the vitamin is an early invention of Bulma's. Whoever took it would get the runs really, really bad if someone yelled "Piggy". She gave it to Oolong to control him. Hee hee, will she keep it? I dunno, Davey…

And to all you Yamcha-haters—I'm sorry for that mild breakup, but I feel sorry for the poor guy! At the start of the Android saga, you could tell he was really upset that Vegeta and Bulma got together. And I've never seen DBZ evidence that he's cheated, so I couldn't just beat him up.


	5. Bathing Suits and Bloody Noses

Here's Chapter 5! Shorter than the others and a step away from the dreary stuff I've been putting up. Just pure V/B to satisfy the request out there! At least, I think this is what you mean when you said "more V/B".

This is my payment to you guys 'cause I've been so slow with all the others. Hope you like it!

DBZ not mine, blah blah blah, don't sue, blah blah blah.

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The next few weeks were hectic, to say the least. Mr. Briefs' improvement was minimal—while he could get up and walk around, he could only work for about half a hour before tiring out. It was up to Bulma to take over his work, as well as catch up on her own. Fortunately, the senzu bean had worked perfectly, healing her injuries and giving her the energy to work through those first overloaded days until she could get into a rhythm.

Vegeta had stopped talking. He only entered the Briefs' to eat and sleep—leaving before dawn for the gravity chamber and returning well after dark. Inside the house he walked quietly and even sometimes picked up after himself in the kitchen—sick of Bulma's nagging and still confused and upset over "That Day", he tried to interact with the others of the household as little as possible. 

However, with the onset of the first days of summer, the delicate balance in the household was once again overturned.

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Vegeta grimaced as another laser hit him. He rolled out from underneath the robot, blasted it, then made his way over to the control panel, dodging the barrage coming from the remaining droids. The gravity was set at 300; he upped it to 325 and turned the difficulty levels of the robots up another ten notches. A robot dived at him—the Saiyan kicked it aside then jumped for the pull-up bar hanging at the top of the ceiling. He began to do pull-ups while twisting out of the way of the lasers. The thousandth pull-up went by and he dropped to the ground, ready for another go with the droids.

The lights flickered and the entire chamber went dead. Five seconds later the chamber began working again, but his program had been erased: the gravity was back to 1-g and the robots were motionless.

"What the hell?" Vegeta poked around the chamber, looking for the disturbance. Something outside one of the windows caught his eye. An eight-foot-tall fence now surrounded the entire Brief compound_. Whatever put up the fence must've drained the power from my chamber!_ He decided to figure out the strange events later—for now, his training needed to continue.

Vegeta left the robots where they were, but changed the chamber's gravity to 375 and began to do more pull-ups, this time one-handed. He had done 167 when he noticed something moving outside the chamber. 

"What are those morons doing out there?" Vegeta twisted to get a better view…and fell to the floor, landing on his head. He ignored the pain, too busy trying to figure out what he just saw.

It was gorgeous outside: sunny, clear, the sky was blue enough to hurt your eyes. Bulma was setting up a lounge chair in the backyard. Neither of these observations would have been important if it wasn't for the fact that Bulma was wearing a while bikini. A SMALL white bikini. A bikini that covered enough, but in a way that still accentuated all the most interesting parts of the female body; a bikini designed to keep everything in, but when she moved let everyone know exactly where those important parts were, especially her big, bouncy, beautiful—

Vegeta shook the image out of his head. The indecency of Earth women never ceased to amaze him. _Not that it's such a bad thing…_ His eyes strayed back over to the window, but he caught himself and turned back to the robots. Furiously, he set them on their highest levels and changed the gravity to 450 g. For the next hour he absorbed himself with fighting, desperately trying to survive while occasionally even managing to fight back.

__

Doesn't she have work to do? Why does she have to expose herself to the world like that? Doesn't she know there are people WATCHING her? This last thought sent an involuntary blush across his face; a droid pounced on this moment of weakness and sent him spinning toward the floor. Rage took over (more at Bulma than anything else), and three quick kicks sent the offender to Robo-Hell. 

Unfortunately, the robots he had blasted had been directly in front of The Window. Before he had time to realize his folly, he had already seen Her. Vegeta gave a harsh gasp and clapped his hand to his face to stop the nosebleed. Bulma was lying face-down on the lounge; her hands were reaching behind her back to unbuckle her strap. Another spurt of blood came as she succeeded and moved to rest her head on her arms. A third spurt of blood came, but this time it was because the remaining five robots had ganged up and slammed his face into the wall.

"Little BASTARDS!!!!!" he screamed, completely obliterating them with one ki blast. Vegeta spat towards the window. "How can I train like this? How can that woman dress like that?" He shut off the chamber and walked outside.

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Bulma smiled. This was exactly what she needed—her complexion had been getting pale staying in the basement all day, and she thought she had saw signs of a pimple. Plus, she had really needed a break from work. Just a few hours out in the sun had already made her feel ten times better. Sighing, she picked up her tanning mirror to check her back—

—and saw Vegeta standing by the lounge, mouth open.

"PEEEERRVEEEEEERT!!" Quicker than a hungry Goku at the sound of a dinner bell, Bulma's strap was buckled up and she was bashing Vegeta over the head with the lounge. "You *gasp* sick *gasp* lowlife *gasp* kill you *gasp*"

Vegeta was now confused as well as angry. Five seconds ago he had been about to tell the woman off. Now she was shrieking and attempting to break his skull. "Woman! Stop it!" He caught the lounge and threw it away. Bulma screamed and grabbed her towel.

"Keep away from me, you dirty freak! I swear, you'll be so sorry if you even touch me—" She let out another long scream.

The Prince blenched [AN: blench is a cool word!]. "Woman! Stop screaming! Why are you screaming? Quit it!" He took a step towards her. Apparently, this was the wrong thing to do—she threw an open bottle of tanning oil in his face and ran towards the house, leaving him standing there, trembling with rage.

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Ten minutes later, Bulma had calmed down enough to wrap a bathrobe around herself and come out from her room. _What the heck was he doing staring at me?_ She shuddered and looked out the sliding door to the backyard. Vegeta was still standing there, a look of bewilderment on his face, tanning oil dripping through his spiky hair and down his body suit. Bulma giggled. _He looks like he did that time I called him 'Little Vegeta' in front of the Namecks…_

Her thoughts turned back to her skin. "I guess I'll move to the balcony—I can't tan just half my body." She waited inside until Vegeta returned to the chamber, then cautiously—and well-clothed—grabbed what remained of her tanning oil and relocated to her balcony.

———————————————————

Vegeta stopped training earlier than usual. The days events left him unable to concentrate—when he wasn't trying to figure out what he had done wrong, images of Bulma in a bikini kept floating through his mind. Nothing helped—he had even tried slamming his head against the wall. Drained and completely pissed off, he walked into the Briefs home, wanting nothing more than to drift into a dreamless sleep.

Alas! It was not to be! Bulma was sitting at the kitchen table in her bathrobe, sipping iced tea and reading the paper. He had to get something to eat, but he didn't want to deal with the woman. Sighing, Vegeta walked over to the fridge, not surprised when she spoke his name.

"Vegeta." It sounded like she was talking about cleaning up dinosaur poo. "At what point did you decide to join Master Roshi in his pursuit of the female ass? Were you always like this, or is this a recent development?"

"Woman." He was equally disgusted. "At what point did you think I would ever look at ANY human, much less YOU? And how can you possibly compare me to that dirty fart?"

"Ah, I see. You were just standing over me to shield me in case it rained, right? How sweet of you."

"I was going to tell you to put some clothes on! It was disgusting, seeing you walk around like that!"

"Like what?"

"You were in your underwear! In LESS than your underwear! Parading around like a slut—"

"Excuse me? This is coming from the man whose wardrobe consists of nothing but dirty boxers and Spandex!"

"That's for training! You were in public!"

"In public? I put up the fence so no one could see! And even if someone could, it doesn't make me a slut! Haven't you ever been to a beach?"

"I wouldn't want to, if everyone was dressed like that!"

"Vegeta, what's your problem? Why didn't you just look away?" Bulma looked up from her tea, and was shocked to notice the man's ears were red. A sly smile spread across her face, and she hid herself behind the newspaper. "Or is it that you couldn't?"

Vegeta shot up, banging his head against the top of the fridge. "That's not it!" He spun around to face her. "Why would I ever want to look at your ugly face?" A vein throbbed steadily in his forehead.

Bulma peeked over the newspaper, and was pleased to see Vegeta's face was the same color as his ears. "Gee, Little Vegeta"—he bristled at the diminutive—"since I'm so ugly I shouldn't worry about anyone, much less YOU, looking at me. I could theoretically wear pretty much anything I want. Now that I think about it , it would be a lot more comfortable to just walk around in my bathing suit ALL the time. When our air conditioner breaks down it gets so darn hot around here—"

She smirked as Vegeta grew more and more agitated. "NO! I don't parade around in front of you with nothing on!"

Bulma raised an eyebrow. Right now, the Vegeta was dressed only in a pair of Spandex shorts that came to mid-thigh.

Vegeta glared. "At least, I don't do it on purpose!"

"I don't do it on purpose! And why do you think I would care what you have on? What makes you think I even notice what you have on?" Bulma took the defensive.

"Huh. You're the one calling me cute."

"When did I say that?!"

"In front of—oh shit."

"You were LISTENING?" Bulma cried, then lowered her voice when she remembered her parents upstairs. "How could you do that? That conversation wasn't any of your business!" she hissed fiercely.

"It was about me, wasn't it? You were the one talking behind my back. You have to face the consequences!"

The look Bulma shot him wilted the burger he was holding. She dropped the paper and stood up. "Well, I bet your eavesdropping also told you that looks aren't everything to me! And as for caring about your dumb Spandex—I'm not as immature as you. It's not like you're such a big deal." The woman covered her mouth and laughed.

"How dare you call me immature? I've survived things that would break your mind just thinking about them, you weak cow!"

"Weak cow? You—mature?" Bulma stopped laughing. "All right, Mr. Maturity—survive THIS!" She untied her bathrobe and flashed him in her bikini, then ran snickering up the stairs.

"Dammit!" Vegeta sunk to the floor, holding his bleeding nose. "Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid woman! Stupid woman!" After what seemed like an eternity, he managed to stop the bleeding and went to bed, no longer hungry. He cursed the woman until his head hit the pillow. A few rooms down, Bulma fell asleep smiling.

****************************************************

Wall, ain't that swa-eeet. I'm not sure if Vegeta was out-of-character or not—he didn't go violent because of the incident in the previous chapters. I wanted to embarrass him, but I didn't want to make him TOO silly. Tell me if he's OOC, please!


	6. My pickle has fleas (i.e. haven't got a ...

Well, it hasn't been quite a year. More like four months. But bad enough, right? Again, sorry sorry for the wait!

Summer's here, my research project's over, and I'll have another chapter to you by the end of the month—I'll be gone the next two weeks at camp.

Anyway, on with the story. Must…get…out…of…boring…slump…

For clarification, frequently anime characters (usually males) when presented with a sexually stimulating situation spurt blood from their noses instead of having erections. It was a way to get around the censor boards and has turned into a tradition. That's why Master Roshi's nose bleeds when he looks at a pretty girl. The severity of the nosebleed is usually proportional to the amount of stimulation.

I refuse to put a disclaimer here. I'm not making money, so anyone who sues me is stupid. STOOOOOPID. STOOOOOPID!

*********************************************************

It wasn't that he ever saw the woman sunbathe or even dress as skimpily. But every time he met up with her—maybe he was going outside and she had come up to get a cup of coffee, or he was dragging himself to bed and she had a flash of inspiration and was running to the basement to write it down—whatever the case, sometimes he would glance at her and he would remember. Then he would scowl, and hurry along, his face red and tight. Afterwards, he would have a greater tendency to break things.

It infuriated him that his hormones betrayed him, forcing him to scurrying along like a self-conscious schoolgirl 

Bulma noticed this.

Bulma smiled.

And it began.

———————————————————————————-

The torment was slow. At first, she would occasionally bumping into him. On the stairs. In the hallway. Whenever he went in for food, it seemed she was always there: at the table drinking a cup of coffee, leaning against the kitchen counter reading a newspaper, or making a sandwich for herself. Vegeta was sure it was more than coincidence.

He wasn't about to tell her that she made him uncomfortable, but he could no more try to act naturally. No matter how hard he concentrated, no matter how much he tightened his face and clenched his jaw, the blood vessels opened and a deep shade of crimson would spread up from his neck, around his ears, until it finally reached his cheeks and forced him to duck and run. Whenever he wanted to eat, he was forced to grab as much food in his arms and get away before she noticed him. Humiliating.

He adjusted his eating habits and managed to get the blushing under control by thinking of training or blowing up planets.

But her neckline started to drop.

Bulma made sure the change was imperceptible—centimeters at a time. She developed a fondness for strappy heels and short skirts (though of course, being practical, she made sure her lab coat was tightly tied up and her shoes removed unless Vegeta was around). Vegeta was too busy running away to notice the clothing change until it literally smacked him in the face.

————————————————————

"Dammit!" _Stupid alarm didn't wake me up stupid alarm damn woman probably broke it—_ Vegeta had put himself through an especially hard session last night and didn't notice that, in an exhausted stupor, he had ripped the volume knob off the alarm clock when he set it.

He smiled grimly. "At least I slept in my training clothes!" He slung himself over the banister, landed in front of the kitchen door—and walked straight into Bulma.

"Excuse YOU, Vegeta!" She was about to slide by him, but then stopped. On his face was a look of—surprise? Anger? _Fear?_ she thought, with a surge of triumph. 

Bulma had picked an especially tight ensemble that day, outlining every curve and extremity in excruciating detail. It was not particularly skimpy—the skirt reached about mid thigh and the neckline only showed about an half-inch of cleavage. However, it was low enough for the fearless Saiyan Prince. He was struck dumb with mortification and fury. She grinned. Not one, but _two _large veins were threatening to pop out of his forehead and his cheeks were the loveliest shade of purplish-blue. The only sound was that of gritting teeth.

"Oh, Vegeta! Is something wrong? You seem—tense." Gently, oh so gently, she placed her hand on his chest and pushed him toward the side. She slid it slowly off his pecs, over his shoulder, down his arm, and began to move on, taking care to extend her legs fully with each step as she headed toward the basement. 

Vegeta trembled, and broke out of the shock. He grabbed her arm and shoved her towards the door. "Get out of the way, woman!" he growled, and bolted out of the house, holding his nose.

Once in the gravity room, he managed to decimate all of the training robots in the first five minutes, even with the level set at 400. His ears still burned with her peals of laughter.

But it got worse. The more he avoided her, the more Bulma felt a perverse determination to run into him. There was a satisfaction in being able to cutting the arrogant prince down a few notches whenever they met.

Her efforts were not overlooked. "This is unbearable!" he shouted, slamming his fist into the side of the gravity chamber. "The damn whore has me under her thumb! Forced to scurry here and there like a little RAT!" The rage was compounded by the fact he hadn't been able to have a decent meal in weeks.

———————————————————————————————

One Saturday, Bulma was working (as usual) in the basement (also as usual) on a new design. She bit her lip and scribbled some calculations on a piece of paper. "Urgh! Who hires these engineers? Don't they know if they put that on, the torque will spin the arm off?" Bulma frowned at her scrawls as she grabbed fistfuls of blue hair and pulled hard. "No—that doesn't work. I wish I could ask Dad. My math is so darn rusty!"

"No, you've got it right." Bulma jumped up at the sound of her father's voice.

"Dad!" Worry flitted across her eyes and Bulma offered her father a seat. "Dad, you look really pale. Should you be out of bed?"

He waved her away. "No, no. I'm not going to be up for long. Just saying goodbye, is all."

"Huh?"

"Remember? The vacation? In Australia?"

"Uh—"

"Your mother and I were going on vacation. The doctor said it would be a good change of pace. Didn't Mom tell you?" Mr. Briefs took of his glasses and wiped them on his shirt.

Bulma slapped her forehead. "Aw, crap. I'm really sorry, Dad—I completely forgot. I was going to drive you to the airport! It's just with this new design—"

Her father leaned over and took a closer look. "It's awful! Who hires these engineers?"

"That's what I said!"

They laughed. Mr. Briefs turned serious again. "Oh, don't worry about it, dear. We've hired a chauffeur to take us down. I know you've been swamped with work—I've caused you so much trouble."

She gave him a hug. "You can't be serious. How many times have you taken over for me? You deserve this! C'mon, I can at least help you with your bags."

———————————————————————————————

"Last one!" The chauffeur heaved Mrs. Briefs' fifth suitcase into the limo. "All right people, load 'em up!"

Bulma kissed her mom. "Bye, Mom! Get a great tan."

Mrs. Briefs tee-heed. "Oh, I'll try, honey. You have fun, too!" Leaning nearer to her daughter, she whispered conspiratally "But not TOO much fun." The older woman winked towards the gravity chamber and broke into a fit of giggles. 

"For the love of—well, g'bye Dad. Don't think about anything but getting well, all right?"

"Oh, Bulma?" Mr. Briefs said. "Will you take care of Kitty for me?" The cat yowled as he pried it off his shoulder and placed it in Bulma's arms. "He likes to go outside at 8:30, 2:00, and 8:15, and he gets fed when he comes back inside. Now, it's all right to give him tap water, but it must be cold or he'll—"

"Yes, yes! I know the drill! Now get going, or you'll miss your flight!"

After a few more hugs and instructions, the Briefs were on their way and Bulma was left alone. She sighed. "Just you and me now, eh, Kitty?" The cat yowled again. "Ah. And him. Ooh, the next month is gonna be a barrel of monkeys." 

——————————————————————————

__

Kakkarott. Vegeta hadn't come out of the chamber since three days ago when he'd had a particularly nasty encounter with Bulma in a leather skirt. He grunted as a laser beam hit him across the arm. 70 straight hours of training were beginning to take their toll. "Stupid robots," he hissed, and missed yet another when blurry eyesight threw it out of his field of view. The Saiyan stumbled over to the console and threw the gravity level up to 230, then turned around to have a robot crash into his face and whip away before he could catch it. Cursing, he threw out a ki ball. And missed. 

His language went from sailor to strung-out street whore. Vegeta set the level up to 250 and cried out as five of the robots began to burn him with their lasers. He managed to gather up enough ki to send out a wave that knocked them back a few feet.

"Still not strong enough! "#!@^#%&*!" The man heaved his entire weight on the switch and sent the level skyrocketing to 700 g. The Prince managed to let out a little sigh before his entire body sunk to the floor. He tried following the robots, but his vision was going red and he could only feel the burn of their lasers. _I might be blacking out. Or dying._ Vegeta thoughts felt sludgy, like his neurons were firing at a super-slow speed. _Whatever_. The Saiyan struggled to get up. He could barely move his head. But as everything went spinning into darkness, he heard the gravity chamber give a last slow groan and give out, returning all conditions to normal. The robots dropped to the floor, lifeless hunks of metal.

Vegeta remained on the ground for a couple of minutes. He marveled at the swirling colors that drifted across the chamber ceiling as his vision returned. When he attempted to get up, the dizziness made him hack and spit up a little blood.

"Stupid senzu beans," he whispered, and pulled half of one out of his pocket, the halved it again and ate the piece. "Don't really need it, anyway." The healing powers were enough to allow him to stumble out of the chamber and into the house. He would be happy if he could find the strength to eat a little and fall asleep on a couch.

The fatigue lifted some once he made it to the kitchen. At first he simply blindly shoveled food into his mouth. Eventually, he managed to regain enough of his senses to be a little more discerning and pick the chunks of year-old milk out from between his teeth. The man's knees began to waver, so, grumbling, he picked up some food and went to the dining room table.

Where he plopped down in front of Bulma, who had unconsciously let her lab coat fall open. 

Think fishnet.

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"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" 

Bulma fell off her chair at the roar and began screaming. "EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

Bulma found herself face to face with what looked like a trippy rabid puffin-dingo-human hybrid. "EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

"SHUT UP!"

"…"

Vegeta stood at the table, gasping and red. At this point, it could have been from the screaming or the cleavage.

She managed got a closer look and relaxed (as much as one could with Vegeta giving you his I'm-going-to-kill-you-as-soon-as-this-run-on-sentence-is-over look). "Vegeta! What the hell's wrong with you?" 

He didn't answer. She noticed her open lab coat and reflexively pulled it across her, blushing. Bulma adopted a haughty, flippant tone. "Pervert. I know I'm sexy, but keep it to yourself!"

Vegeta spoke. "Pervert?" An eye began to twitch. "PERVERT?" A Twinkie in his fist exploded from its packaging. "Did you call _me_ the pervert?"

Bulma composed herself and smiled sweetly. "As if I would have done anything to deserve that title?"

"You! You PARADE around like some, some palace SLUT—"

She bristled. "What did you say?"

"—like some SLUT in clothes only the worst of whores would ever wear—"

"Did you call me a slut?"

"For the sole purpose of—of I don't know WHAT you're trying to do—"

"You called me a SLUT!"

"Do you _enjoy_ getting in the way of my training?"

"_You_ called _me_ a slut!"

"YES! I CALLED YOU A SLUT! GET OVER IT!"

Bulma sniffed and moved on. "The problem isn't mine, Vegeta. You deserve it! I get so sick of seeing you parade around, your head stuck so far up your ass you can't tell whether you're saying something or just eating the shit you spew out!"

He walked around the table to her, but she didn't budge. " 'I'm the wonderful Prince of the Saiyans! Ooh, I'm so strong! Weakling humans, bow to me! Blah blah blah blah!' You've earned whatever humiliation you get."

Their faces were inches apart. One of Vegeta's eyes was twitching madly. He began to speak in falsetto. " 'Life is sooo hard. The androids are coming to kill me! What_ever_ shall I do? I know! I'll prevent the planet's only hope from becoming strong enough to defeat them, and then I'll eat some more cake!' " He thought longingly of the plate of food he had left behind, but could not back down.

"_You're_ the planet's only hope? That's it, we're doomed."

"I happen to be the strongest warrior in the universe, woman!"

A smile played across her lips and she lifted a finger in a questioning gesture. "Really? I thought that title went to Goku. After all, he _did_ defeat you, ahh, what was it, twice? And all those times he's saved your ass? And let's not forget he was the first—"

"Don't say it."

"He was the FIRST—"

"I'm warning you!"

"Not only the first but the ONLY Super Saiyan! Wasn't that supposed to be YOU?"

Vegeta's arm shot out, pinning Bulma to the wall. He had meant to break her neck then and there, but luckily for her had failed due to his weakened state.

"Ooh, Vegeta—you're so clooose." _That's right, Bulma. Provoke him! You are SUCH an idiot._

"I'm going to kill you so the androids won't have to," he hissed.

Bulma opened her mouth, the perfect insult on her tongue—but a wave of clarity washed over her and she closed it. _This is ridiculous. I'm ending it._ "Vegeta! Quit that!"

He looked at her. Her voice was no longer whiny or insulting—it was serious, compelling. Vegeta felt his arm muscles tremble with exhaustion. _Mustn't show I'm tired_. To Bulma's amazement, he lowered her down and backed off, returning to his chair. Inwardly, she sighed with relief.

"This has to stop. You're always threatening to kill me."

"You bring it on yourself."

"Excuse me, I only do it in retaliation since you're a prick!"

Vegeta raised a chicken bone to throw at her. Bulma hurried on. "Now, look—let's make a deal. You hate me wearing this clothing, right? It's mortifying. So I'll stop wearing it—_if_ you promise to stop threatening to murder me and my family in our beds."

"What kind of deal is that? There's no benefit to _me_—why don't I just kill you, and force your parents to fix the chamber whenever I want?"

"You know, Vegeta—how close can you get to me if I'm only wearing a thong?"

"Try me."

"You wish."

"Bimbo!"

"Prick!"

"Whore!"

"Freakish, loser monkey fiend—see, you're doing it again! I refuse to be caught up in your immature arguments! Now, go ahead and don't promise—and see if that chamber ever gets fixed and I wear anything more than floss!"

"You really _are_ a slut. And you're calling _me_ immature."

Bulma sniffed. "Fine, I'm a slut. But I prefer to think of it as tough negotiation, thank you very much."

Vegeta wrinkled his nose in disgust. The woman had him. The gravity chamber _and_ the clothing. _Since when did I get under her control?_

"Fine. But you have to stop nagging me."

"Provided you do your share of chores."

"I REFUSE to do housework!" Vegeta looked ready to pin her to the wall again.

"Look, are you going to promise or not?"

"Stupid female." He mumbled something under his breath. Bulma glared. He spoke louder. "I promise. Now leave me alone!"

Bulma laughed. "Of course." She swept up her papers and returned to the basement. _Bulma, I don't think there's a man on Earth not in your power_.

"Woman, I don't understand you." Vegeta slumped into his chair to finish gorging himself.

—————————————————————

It was four in the morning when Bulma finally stumbled up to bed. She had only settled herself under the covers when she remembered she had forgotten to feed Kitty. Groaning, she shuffled back down the stairs and softly call the cat's name. When the animal didn't show itself, she searched through the house and found it in the dining room.

"Kitty! C'mere, Kitty! Hmm, maybe you don't need me to fill your bowl after all." The cat had fallen asleep next to a half-eaten chicken leg that had fallen on the floor. The woman grumbled and picked it up. _Stupid Vegeta. Doesn't even bother to keep food on the table. This is gonna leave a stain_. But the grumbling stopped when she noticed the proud Prince sleeping in his chair.

Not just sleeping. Snoring loudly. Through the pile of mashed potatoes he had collapsed in. Bulma's face hurt as she tried to stifle screams of laughter. She picked up the cat and looked at the Prince a while longer, then reached over and flicked a bit of potato out of his hair. _You don't need to embarrass him. He does a fine job of it himself. Oh, for a camera_. The woman giggled softly and returned to her bed.


End file.
